


Victor!!! In IKEA

by sweeterthangod



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, IKEA, M/M, Victor is Extra, Yakov's students are dONE w prima donna victor, got this idea from tumblr, overwhelming fluff @ the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9203552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthangod/pseuds/sweeterthangod
Summary: What happens when some of the best skaters in Russia help a lovestruck living legend, who's always lived alone, prepare for his fiancée to move in? A trip or six to IKEA, of course.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a post by hopenobodyeverfindsthis on tumblr! Hope this does it justice, extra fluff on the end cuz why not??

* * *

 

 

“Please, I'm dying.”

“I doubt that,” Yuri huffed, skating away from the edge of the rink. Victor was being particularly insufferable today, and Yuri wanted nothing to do with it. Yuuri would be moving in with the twenty-eight year old man-child in two weeks, and apparently that wasn't enough time for Victor to properly prepare the apartment.

“Yurio please, the bed is too small, I have no cups, and there's no room for plates in the cabinets because they're full of Makkachin’s toys.”

“How have you survived the past two decades?”

“Take-out and laziness.”

Yuri sighed petulantly, pouting. “Since you're being such a big baby about it, I'll help you.”

“Thank you Yurio~! We have to start right away!”

Yakov looked up. “Take the rest of them with you, I need a break anyways.”

“Don't you mean  _ we _ should take a break?” Mila sang from the other end of the rink. 

“No, you heard correctly,” he deadpanned. “Now  _ I  _ have an appointment with a bottle of vodka, so I'll see you bra—kids tomorrow.”

“I'm not a kid!” Yuri shouted at his coach’s back, untying his skates while Victor  _ thrummed  _ with excitement.

“Oh, this'll be so great~! All of you helping me make the place perfect for my precious Yuuri!”

It was terrible.

Yuri couldn't see why Victor needed  _ two  _ more couches, didn't he already have one? 

“What if we fight? If I can't sleep on a firm mattress my back will hurt and it'll affect my skating!”

“Okay, but  _ two _ ?”

“This one is such a beautiful color, and a love seat! Yuuri and I are in love, aren't we? And, the other one folds out, plus it's super comfy.”

“I feel like you should have made a pros and cons list before giving up and getting both.”

Victor pouted. Mila  _ had _ been in stitches over Yuri’s predicament, but now, after five grueling hours of couch shopping, she looked ready for murder. Georgi, on the other hand, was somehow still on his feet, motioning to Victor that there was sale on  a nice brand of silverware. The two of them cheerfully skipped off to find the cup aisle, Mila and Yuri looking rather bedraggled as they trudged behind them. Katya, a pairs skater, had faked throwing up to avoid the trip, while Dmitri, her partner, and a singles skater named Ivan found their way back to the two chatting in the midst of water glasses. 

“So there's this really nice mirror I found,” Yuri blocked out the rest of Ivan’s sentence, dragging a hand over his face. 

The next trip was worse somehow.

It began with Victor crying over fitted sheets (“Nyet, Yuuri is  _ not _ going to break off the engagement if you get this one!”-Yuri) and then plates (“Aw, it's okay! This pattern is wonderful, I'm sure he'll love it!”-Mila). The redhead had come prepared this time, coffee in hand while she and Georgi debated whether or not Victor needed a rug: and if so, what pattern and color would best suit the apartment? The bedroom? The bathroom? Was a toilet cozy going too far? A  _ tea  _ cozy? Someone call the staff, I need to know if this is a dresser or a vanity and I can't understand Swedish.

Yuri was going to lose. His. Mind. 

The third trip happened without him (thank the stars) and the fourth was actually interesting.

“Ivan, is this shower curtain too blue?”

“Da, this one is better. The tone complements the tiles.”

“Mm, but the pattern is distracting…”

“You're right, but what do you want to compromise? Tone or pattern?”

“I'm not sure…Dmitri, Mila! Your input please?”

Just kidding.

The last two trips were only made better by the knowledge that the rest of Yakov’s students were also very tired of going to IKEA. Yuri had fallen asleep in the bean bag chairs so many times he actually bought a leopard print one for himself; meanwhile, Mila was now the proud owner of several new chairs and Dmitri had found that he rather liked a throw pillow Victor decided was  _ too _ fluffy. At last, the silver-haired skater was satisfied. The Friday before Yuuri arrived, Yuri slept in. No more freaking IKEA, no more hiding behind large pieces of furniture whenever they were inevitably spotted by fans, no more placemat this, paint-tone that. 

Freedom!

“Yurachka~!”

Goddammit.

It took four attempts to appease Victor's obsession with perfection, the whole gaggle of unfortunate skaters who'd gone with him on the IKEA excursions huffing and puffing as furniture was moved, shifted, moved again, and then switched or moved or  _ something _ hellish; Victor used very dirty tricks to persuade them to help. The leather jacket that arrived at Yuri's house a few days later was worth it, though.

After much bribery, blood, sweat (not Victor's, that sly motherfu—), and tears (those were definitely Victor), the apartment looked...fantastic. Yuri would never say it out loud, but the group had done a great job. Georgi was crying now too while the rest of them collapsed on Victor's couch collection (how did Ivan and Dmitri get them to fit?!), and Yuri just wanted Katsudon to get the hell over to Russia so that this domestic nightmare would end. He almost felt bad for the guy; Victor was alright, but  _ marrying  _ him? It sounded tiring.

Yuri groaned internally. It  _ would  _ be tiring.

He decided to give Yuuri a break when he got there. The poor man was engaged to the same person who'd cried over spoons, was excited about  _ crockpots _ of all things, and had recently purchased a recipe book for dishes that sported kale as the main ingredient.

Scratch that. Not only was Yuri going to be nice to Katsudon, he'd pray for him, too. 

A saint among men.

When he arrived at the airport, hair a bit longer and eyes bright, Yuri shoved Victor into his arms. 

“Please, we weren't ready.”

Yuuri looked at the rest of his welcoming party, which consisted of the people responsible for helping Victor with the newly redecorated apartment. “Ready for what?”

“Him!” Mila mouthed, pointing at Victor. Yuuri eyed his fiancée with an amused expression.

“Vitya, what did you do?”

Victor's trademark smile flashed before Yuuri sighed. “Just redecorated a bit!”

“A bit?!” Yuri fumed, held back by Mila. “You bought two couches! I don't even need one couch!”

“You guys never really spent a lot of time with Victor off the ice, did you?” Yuuri smiled apologetically, the team nodding. 

“How do you do it?” 

“What's your secret?”

“Must be true love,  _ damn _ .”

Victor looked hurt by the time they reached the apartment building. “I'm shocked at this turn of events and don't deserve this slander!”

Yuuri pressed his hand to Victor's head playfully while the whining fool unlocked the door. “Okay, let's see wh—”

Katsudon was floored, frozen in place while he stared at his new home. The cabinets had been filled with plates, bowls, and cups (not goddamn dog toys, Jesus Victor), the hardwood floor covered in a soft rug that suited the warm tones of the couches. Some scented candles had been burning earlier, so the place smelled faintly of vanilla. A handmade sign that read ‘Welcome Home, Yuuri!’ hung over the table. He smiled wetly, sniffling as his ever-attendant and affectionate fiancée wiped tears away.

“It's so much more...like a home,” Yuuri said, walking in. 

“You've been here before?” Yuri asked.

“Mm. We had to meet with Yakov and the ISU to see if it was alright for Victor to be both my coach and competitor. I stayed with him for those few days, then went to see my family for a few weeks while he prepared for me to move in.”

Yuuri turned and hugged Victor tightly, and the rest of the group looked away for a moment as they kissed. 

“Thank you, as well!”

They were all suddenly being hugged too. Yuri had forgotten that he was a hugger. He begrudgingly accepted the embrace, if only to thank Yuuri for taking one for the team and marrying the home-improvement-obsessed skater.

But, as the day turned to night and eventually he was the only guest left, saying goodbye the couple, he thought that maybe both of them had gotten lucky. A perfect match. They were snuggled together on a couch, drinking tea from their new mugs while Makkachin slept soundly at their feet. Yuuri noticed that Victor was falling asleep and placed his mug on the coffee table before tucking his head into his neck, staring dreamily at Yuri as he softly said goodbye.

And Yuri gave his own rare, genuine smile, like when he'd given him birthday piroshki.

Katsudon would be fine.

+

Yuuri stroked Victor's hair gently, his slow, steady breathing ghosting over Yuuri’s neck. Yuri had left a little while ago, after sending the softest look possible for the teen Yuuri's way, and now he was alone with his fiancée and their dog in an apartment that looked completely different than it had a few weeks ago. The lack of personal possessions had been replaced with cushy furniture and homey decorations, like the small, gold pair of skates hanging from a hook on the wall. The overall cold nature of it was gone, and now, as Yuuri lay soaking in the warmth from Victor and Makkachin, he knew that he had made the right choice. He had been anxious to move in, a bit disconcerted in finding out just how little Victor seemed to keep in his apartment. It was very clean, but it felt more like a hotel room than a place someone would actually live. Victor must have noticed Yuuri's hesitance and decided to make it less sterile. He spent a good half hour coddling his lover with kisses and praises at how wonderful their home was. Victor was a bit too out of it to reciprocate in his usual fashion, but he smiled and preened under Yuuri's cooing.

When he began to feel the jet-lag catching up to him, Yuuri extracted himself from the couch and cleaned the mugs. He picked Victor up in a bridal carry (honestly, if he could perform a flagpole on a pole while drunk at last year's banquet, he could handle a sleepy Victor) and padded to their room. He took it in for the second time that day, the freshly painted walls a rusty color that made the atmosphere more sultry in contrast to its previous icy grey. He set the man down with ‘shh’s and ‘go to sleep’s, giggling when Victor whined for him to stay.

“I'll be right back, Vitya,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. The lump under the comforter grumbled but let Yuuri go change and brush his teeth. 

When Yuuri dropped into their bed, warm arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him snugly to Victor's chest.

“Missed you,” he murmured. 

Yuuri's stomach twisted pleasantly, and he squeezed Victor like he hadn't seen him in years. “I missed you more.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Mm-hm, totally.”

“Not possible.” Yuuri felt an exhausted yawn vibrate against him. He leaned back to capture Chanel-moisturized lips with his own, slightly chapped from the cold. They kissed until the ache from being apart so long abated, Victor nearly dozing against his mouth. With a light laugh Yuuri nuzzled into his neck, his hand over Victor's heart.

He felt it beating rhythmically as he fell asleep.

 


End file.
